On to Guadaloupe
Irie
Mon 25 Feb 2008 02:39
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Position 16 10 389N 61 46.942W Pte Malendure,
Guadaloupe
Sunday 24th February
On the final run up to Famouth on Friday we had a
little excitement. John was on the helm, and we were motoring the last mile or
so into a sharp sea with the odd pot bouy around. Suddenly, one appeared from
nowhere, hardly visible on the surface and very close on the port side. As Irie
passed, it dipped and then rapidly moved towards the boat - classic signs
of having been caught. Jan very promptly put the motor into neutral,
stopping the prop and slowing the boat. At first it looked as if we were hooked
as the line trailed out under our stern. The genoa was partly set, we
turned away, and the line and it's marker slipped away to port; it must have
just caught the keel, and the rapid response prevented it from winding up on the
screw. A lucky escape and thus another excuse for a small celebration as the
anchor settled once more into the sand of Pigeon Beach. In the evening John and
Marian took us to Abracadabra for the final evening's meal and we were joined
once more by Alan and Gillian. It was very entertaining, and went on far longer
than planned, especially since Kumari had an early start as they head
south
Saturday ebbed away untill it was time for the
Keerys to leave. We had a final rum on the boat before running them ashore and
waving a slightly sad farewell as they disappeared in the care of Dockyard
Taxi. Antigua's been a good base with plenty of variety, and we've all had
loads of fun together. On the way back to the boat we stop at the Pigeon Beach
Bar from where we earlier heard a heavy reggae bass. On the verandah overlooking
the beach a small band are playing traditional reggae music, a sharp
upbeat, underpinned with drums, a pleasing plaintive harmony and the
whole driven by the insistent bass line . The bass player must be
ninety, with long grey dreads snaking from a high knitted hat towering on his
head. He sways and steps to the music as dusk falls over the bay, the pink
sunset fades, and riding lights prickle the dark. It's a fitting end to our
stay in Antigua.
Sunday morning starts at six as the day is
breaking, and by seven thirty, the anchor's aweigh and Irie breasts the swell
outside the shelter of the reef. Twelve knots of wind becomes twenty five before
a large shower, then settling to the high teens as the sun emerges again and at
seven or more knots, we chase down the forty five miles to our next
stop.
J & M in typical Antiguan pose, overlooking
English Harbour and Falmouth
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